Carry You Home
by happyday girl
Summary: Tag to 'The Return.' Aramis manages to persuade a reluctant Athos to join him in returning to Pinon to check up on the residents. On the way there they are attacked, before waking in a cellar- soon a familiar face returns, bent on revenge on the former Comte... Athos whump. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

It was a bright and early morning when Aramis walked into the Garrison, a wide smile on his face as his eyes sought his comrades. Spotting them eating breakfast on the scrubbed wooden table in the corner he strolled over, flumping down next to d'Artagnan, who put down his spoon and regarded his friend with a quirked eyebrow.

'Someone's happy.' He said, to which Porthos snorted and shovelled another spoon of oats into his mouth.

'Probably spent another night with a ravishing woman, no doubt.' He muttered as he chewed.

'Porthos, why do you wound me so?' Aramis chuckled, nodding his thanks as he was passed a bowl of oats by Serge. He chewed for a while before becoming acutely aware of three pairs of eyes staring at him.

'Can I not just be happy?' he muttered to them after swallowing, wiping his mouth.

'No.' Athos replied, pushing his finished bowl away before yawning.

'Do I really need a reason to be happy?' The Medic asked, grinning.

'Absolutely.' Athos nodded.

'Well, I can't offer you one- I just woke up like this!'

'It's not natural.' Athos shot back, standing up and stretching. 'Not this early...'

'Then I am unnatural then!' Aramis chuckled, earning another arched eyebrow from d'Artagnan as all four men stood as Aramis finished his breakfast.

'What's the plan for today, then?' he asked them as he looked around.

'Well, Porthos and I have been tasked with delivering some papers to a lord about twenty miles away.' d'Artagnan replied, picking up his hat and putting it on.

'It's a nice day for a ride,' Aramis nodded, reaching for his gloves.

'And we-' Athos muttered, grabbing some cloths from the bench next to him. '-are on the cleaning roster for the day.'

'Cleaning?!' Aramis groaned, sighing as Athos thrust the cloths into his hands. 'You can't be serious.'

'Deadly, I'm afraid.' Athos replied darkly, sighing himself.

'Why not get the new recruits to do it?'

'Because they are training.' Athos muttered, shrugging on his leather coat to combat the chill of a fast-approaching winter. 'It's only about hundred pistols, and about the same amount of swords.'

'Wow, can't wait...'Aramis replied sarcastically, sighing again.

There was a few minutes of silence before d'Artagnan cleared his throat. 'Well,' he muttered, coming between Aramis and Athos and putting his hands on their shoulders, grinning. 'We can't stand around all day listening to you two whine about polishing- Porthos and I have _actual_ work to do.' He pushed himself away, before laughing as Aramis threw the bundle of cloths at him.

'We should be back by nightfall- meet back here and we'll go to a tavern?' Porthos asked as he and d'Artagnan readied themselves to collect their horses.

'Sounds like a brilliant plan!' Aramis nodded, giving his friend a smile. 'Have a safe journey.'

'Enjoy your cleaning, lads!' d'Artagnan called behind him as he and Porthos made their way to the Garrison door.

Aramis shook his head with a grin and lifted his hand in a farewell gesture as he and Athos watched them turn the corner and head to the stables.

'Well,' Athos muttered, sighing to himself as he stooped to pick up the cloths that Aramis had thrown at the Gascon. 'The sooner we do the cleaning the sooner it'll be finished.'

''I suppose you're right...' Aramis agreed, his voice sombre as the two of them trudged slowly to the armoury. 'This is going to be _so much fun_...'

* * *

The house was bare now. Silent. Brooding. The man stood by his window, looking across at the piece of land by the front of his house with a scowl on his face; the grass was so long now it reached a man's knees. Weeds grew haphazardly through the grass, choking the life out of the meadow-flowers that were normally resplendent this time of year.

The bushes needed pruning too, yet the man hadn't the heart to do anything about it. He pushed himself away from the window and crossed the bare stone floor, his boots clacking on the hard surface, and into the parlour.

The room was dark and empty, completely devoid of any life or personality- he had banished his maids to their quarters hours ago; he couldn't stand to see their tired, blank faces day after day, hour after hour. He lashed out at them for the slightest thing, verbally and physically, and was beginning to tire of the way they balked from him when he entered a room.

He sat heavily in a wooden chair at the head of the scrubbed wooden table that the maids used to house the crockery. He used the polished table in the drawing room for eating normally, however had recently taken to taking his meals in his rooms; the solitude suited him.

He sighed deeply as he sank into the chair, his hands itching with frustration, with anger, with grief. This was no life. He was merely existing ever since it had happened; he was floating through his days with the faint hope that each would be his last. Anger now constantly filled his body, as if it were a weight he could not escape; a darkness had penetrated him, he knew, but he could not stop it- perhaps now he didn't even want it to stop.

As it consumed him again he let out a groan of frustration, swiping his hand across the table and sending a teapot and a cup and saucer set to the floor, where it smashed against the opposite wall with a large crash.

He looked up as he heard footsteps from above, a sudden bolt of hope filling his body. Maybe he was home? Maybe it had all been a horrible nightmare?

When he heard the clicking of boots on the stairs, he realised it was one of the maids, disobeying his orders once again. He'd teach her a lesson this time, he told himself, anger rising into his throat.

He had told her to stay in her room- she had no business walking about the house...

He made it to the parlour door when he heard the front door slam; he hurried to the window and watched as Marie, his head-maid, strutted down the path as if she owned the house, before turning into the woodshed, presumably to gather firewood.

He sighed deeply as he watched her shadowy figure through the soot-covered shed window, knowing he should help, or at least call someone to help. He again pushed himself from the window in a fit of anger-why should he do anything? He didn't care what she did, or what anyone did for that matter. He had lost. What was the point in the day to day, when in the end your life could end in an instant?

He crossed to his drawing room as an idea that had been brewing in his mind, first as a small ember of an idea, smoking gently in his mind, suddenly burst into flame, crackling and spitting in a way that made it impossible for him to ignore or push away.

He took the large gold key from his pocket and twisted it in the lock of his bureau, eyes narrowed as his shaky hands sorted through the papers and deeds, certificates and invoices, until he found what he was looking for. He brought them out, as if seeing the words would somehow validate his idea.

His hands were now shaking so much, both in anger and an excited anticipation, that he could barely make out the words scrawled on the thick, yellowing papers.

He walked over to the roaring fire that dominated the wall behind his desk; he didn't need to read the words to know what they said. He smiled to himself, an idea hatching in his brain as his mind whirred; yes. He knew what he had to do. It was so simple- after all, revenge was the simplest action of all.

He chuckled darkly as he ripped the paper in half before throwing them into the flames, where they caught fire instantly, the edges blackening as smoke drifted upwards.

He stood back and watched as the top pages furled up with the heat, leaving the signature on the last page visible for a few seconds before it too blackened in the flames. The envelope was thrown next, landing in the ashes before curling into itself as the official seal started to warp and melt in the flames; the seal of the Comte de le Fere.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading this little prologue, I hope its set the story up nicely.**

 **As mentioned in the summary this is going to be a very Athos-centered whump story, although that's not to say I won't throw in some hurt!Aramis along the way!**

 **Please review, as always I'd love to know your thoughts!**


	2. Chapter 2

'Can we stop now?' Aramis whined, throwing down his polishing cloth and flexing his aching hands. Athos peered down at the pile of swords between them, his mouth moving as he silently counted.

'We've only got about a hundred left...' he deadpanned, giving Aramis a sarcastic smile. 'What are you complaining about?'

'A hundred?!' Aramis repeated, before groaning and wiping his sweaty face. 'I know for a fact I've done nearly six hundred!'

'You know that for a fact, do you?' Athos asked, rubbing his own tired hands together. 'I don't think we've got six hundred Musketeers...'

'Well, near enough!' Aramis waved the maths away. 'Lets stop for a while-surely its lunchtime?'

'Its not even noon!' Athos snorted, shaking his head. 'You always think of your stomach when you've got a job to do!'

'Well, I just have better priorities than most people!' Aramis grinned, before he groaned again, already loathe to pick up his thrown cloth. 'Lets go for a walk- get some fresh air!'

'I'll open the window.'

'No, I mean real fresh air!'

'Well, the air outside is _real fresh air_ -'

'Come on Athos! Don't tell me you enjoy this?'

'When did I say that?' Athos sat back, eyebrows raised. 'I hate this job as much as you- but someone has got to do it.'

'Let's take a break, just for a while?' Aramis pressed, batting his eyelashes at the other man in a sure-fire way to make him laugh.

'No, and don't look at me like that!' Athos muttered, rolling his eyes. He pressed his mouth into a thin line of annoyance as Aramis sat forwards, a pout now on his face. 'Now stop it!' he growled, before his face melted into an exasperated smile despite his best efforts as Aramis looked down now, a stricken look on his face.

'Alright- we can go for a walk round to the market square and patrol for a little while.' Treville was out of the city on business, so it wasn't as if they had anyone to answer to, as such. 'Happy?'

'Ecstatic!' The Medic grinned, standing up and brushing his hands on his trousers to get the polishing balm off them. 'Let's go!'

Athos sighed and rolled his eyes as he watched his friend bolt for the door, leaving him to walk out by himself, closing the door with a snap and hoping the Captain didn't come back early and discover the job was not done.

* * *

The market was bustling, as was usual for the area around this time of day- fish merchants wrestled with bakers and jewellery sellers to get the attention of the passing crowd, yelling out deals and prices to anyone who would listen.

Athos walked the outskirts of the market, his hands behind his back as his eyes flicked around, alert for any danger that could come their way. All seemed well; nothing was out of the ordinary.

He looked up as Aramis fell into place beside him, a brown paper bag that smelt of grease in his hands.

'What have you got there?' he asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

'Hog pie with a little serving of tongue to go with it!' Aramis replied with a grin, taking a bite.

'Lovely..' Athos muttered, putting a hand up when Aramis offered him a bite. 'No thanks, tongue doesn't agree with me.'

'Shame- there's a stall selling Escargot over there; do you want me to fetch you a pot?'

'Maybe later- we are supposed to be working, remember?'

'I know, I know..' Aramis took a last bite and crumpled the paper into a ball, before putting it in Athos' pocket with a chuckle. 'Ready!'

Athos sighed to himself as they continued working; they nodded to Pierre and Jaime, a couple of fellow musketeers who were rostered to patrol the area, as they passed them, before continuing down the streets, looking for trouble.

After a while they could see that the area was so well patrolled that they weren't really needed- As they passed into a deserted alleyway just past the market Athos was just about to suggest going back and finishing the polishing when Aramis cleared his throat.

'You ever think about Pinon?' he asked lightly, looking across to his friend. 'About the people there?'

'Why?' Athos asked, instantly cagey. 'What brought that up?' He tried to ignore the way his skin prickled at the personal question.

'Nothing, I was just thinking that its been a while since we left...' Aramis muttered, shrugging. 'I was wondering if they were alright. I just wanted to know if you ever thought about them?'

'Not really.' Athos replied, although in truth he often thought of them, wondering how they were faring as their own owners and leaders.

'Never?' Aramis pressed, eager to know.

'Well, sometimes, I suppose.' It was now his turn to look to his friend, a questioning look on his face. 'Why?'

Aramis shrugged, before looking up at the sky. 'Its a lovely afternoon for a ride, isn't it?'

Athos sighed to himself, anticipating where the conversation was heading with a swirl of anxiety flaring in his stomach- 'Aramis no! We have work to do, we-'

'But you haven't seen them in ages, and I'd like to know how they are holding up!'

'Now isn't the time!'

'Why? No time like the present, I say.'

'We have the cleaning today!' Athos growled- Aramis' insistence irritated him, as did his refusal to let the matter drop.

'And tomorrow there will be another excuse, my friend.' Aramis muttered, an infuriatingly easy smile on his face.

Athos stayed silent and quietly seethed for a few seconds. 'This is not up for discussion.'

'We can be there and back before Porthos and d'Artagnan come home- it won't take long.'

'Why do you want to go so badly?'

'Why don't you?'

Athos sighed deeply again and looked across to his friend, who had that annoyingly inane smile on his face that he used when he knew he'd won an argument. Perhaps it would be good to see how they were getting on? He didn't need to speak to them, or even let them know he was there. He didn't really want to go there at all, but he knew Aramis was like a dog with a bone once he got an idea in his head.

'Alright...' he relented, rolling his eyes as Aramis grinned. 'We'll go and have a look- when we get back you will help me polish so many swords they're going to shine and blind everyone in the parade next week!'

'You have my word.' Aramis nodded, before the two of them walked quickly into the direction of the stables.

* * *

There was a chill in the air as the two Musketeers started their ride out to Pinon; as they got closer the cold seemed to bite even more. Athos wished he'd worn thicker breeches as his legs started going numb from cold atop his horse-he shivered in his cloak and pulled on his winter gloves he always kept in his pockets.

'If it snows and we get stranded I'm holding you personally responsible!' he muttered to Aramis, his teeth chattering slightly.

'Snow?' Aramis chuckled. 'It's only October, Athos!'

'Well its cold enough to snow for sure...' the swordsman grumbled. He knew they were getting nearer- they'd reach Pinon on the hour, perhaps even less.

The road they were on was desolate, as they had used the road normally only used at harvest-time; rain started pattering on their leather coats, and the clouds were getting darker by the second. Athos hoped they'd be home again before the storm hit.

'Have you got any apples?' Aramis asked after a couple of minutes of silent riding.

Athos looked round, a confused look on his face. 'Pardon?'

'I said- have you got any apples?'

Athos let a few beats of silence pass before answering. 'Yes, because I routinely store apples on my person for just this occasion.' He muttered, quirking an eyebrow at his friend, who shrugged.

'Just wondering...I just fancied an apple, is all...'

'Well you'll have to wait till we reach Pinon, I'm sure they have apples.'

'Fancied one now...' Aramis grumbled as they continued riding.

'You really are a bottomless pit, aren't you?' Athos lamented, before he sighed and, to Aramis' utter delight, reached into his pack and pulled out a red apple.

'Here-' he muttered, tossing the apple to the Medic. 'I haven't checked it for worms, so be careful.'

'Athos, this is why I love you, you know...' Aramis chuckled as he inspected the apple, before taking a large bite.

'Yes, I know...' Athos nodded, rolling his eyes.

Both men looked up the road as they heard a horse whinny from up ahead. Three men on horseback blocked the road ahead, and as they rode closer Athos could see each man was large and beefy-looking.

'This looks interesting,' Athos muttered, to which Aramis nodded.

'Could be secret gathering?' he whispered.

'Of three people?'

'Well...could be a small club?' The Medic shrugged, before all five men got off their horses. There was no way past the three men, and Athos didn't much see the point of turning back.

'Afternoon, gentleman.' Aramis called out- none of the men answered.

'Are you Athos?' the man in the middle barked.

'Who wants to know?' Athos muttered, eyes creased.

'That doesn't answer my question, does it?' the man growled, narrowing his own eyes.

'Why do you want to know who Athos is?' Aramis asked, voice wary.

'Which one of you is it?' the man spat, lifting his arm and pulling a pistol from his coat and aiming it at Aramis' chest. 'I won't ask nicely again.'

'I am Athos-' Athos growled, stepping forwards and in front of Aramis. 'What do you want?'

'You're to come with us.' the man to the left said, before he and the man to the right all pulled out pistols and aimed them at the two musketeers. 'No fighting, no arguing. Just come with us- both of you.'

From behind him Athos heard Aramis snort. 'And if we don't?'

The man in the middle smiled- seconds later he lifted his gun-arm again and fired. The bullet shot over Athos' shoulder and ricocheted into the tree behind Aramis; both men ducked out of instinct, closing their eyes for a second as the loud crack and burst of smoke filled their vision, before turning away from the men to make sure neither of them were injured. A second was all it took for the three men to spring into action.

Aramis gasped out as he felt something heavy connect with the back of his head- he fell forwards with a cry, his hands splayed out in front of him, catching Athos' coat on the way down.

Athos turned on the spot, an angry cry on his lips as he saw Aramis fall face first onto the dirt path. He threw himself at the man who had hit him over the back of the head, his fist hitting its mark as he felt teeth dislodge under his knuckles.

He cried out again as he felt something lace around his neck; a rope or a scarf, he didn't know which. He shouted as he was wrenched off his feet, hitting the ground hard next to an unconscious Aramis- his hands scrabbled at the bind around his neck; he suddenly felt a weight on his chest and as a shadow crossed his vision he realised one of the men was straddling him, pulling the bind around his neck as hard as he could as the swordsman garbled for every breath.

As the corners of his vision turned black he could vaguely hear one of the men shouting at the man was throttling him to stop, that "he needed him alive." Seconds later the pressure was released, yet it came too late. Athos turned his head groggily to the side as his world started to turn black; as the darkness slowly overtook him he saw Aramis lying motionless next to him, blood already starting to pool onto the dirt path between them.

 **Thanks for reading- next chapter up soon!**

 **Please review!**

 **X**


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis woke first, his eyes slowly flickering open as a throbbing pain began to pulsate behind them. He sat up awkwardly, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he leant back against a cold stone wall as his head protested.

He tried lifting his arms to rub his painful eyes but found that he could not; his arms were tied with thick rope behind him, he realised. As he peered behind him he saw that the rope was also knotted tightly to a large metal ring that was screwed into the stone, tethering him to the wall.

A horrible feeling sank into his stomach as he looked back to the front- whoever had taken them meant business, he realised.

As he tried moving his wrists they flared in pain, the rope was so tight- he looked around instead, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light of the room they were in.

It was a low, square stone room, bereft of furniture or any other trappings- Aramis peered into the corner as something large and wooden caught his eye. Running across the length of the left-hand wall was a large wine counter, upon which numerous dusty bottles of wine were stacked and placed on their sides in the compartments.

So, they were in a wine cellar. But where were they? More importantly, where was Athos?

He looked round, relief filling him as he saw his friend leaning against the wall a few feet to his right. The relief quickly turned to concern as he saw that Athos was still unconscious; his head lolled down towards his chest, and Aramis could see a scarlet, raw-looking ligature mark on the small area of neck that he could see. It obviously snaked right round his neck, the medic realised with a small groan of anger.

'Athos.' He called, his voice reverberating in the silence of the room.'Athos! Wake up!'

He let out a growl of frustration as he realised he didn't have enough rope to make it to Athos to check he was alright; he also didn't know how loud he should shout, as he didn't want to advertise the fact that they were conscious to whoever had taken the just yet. 'Athos! Come on, wake up!' he settled for whispering as urgently as he could, keeping an eye on the large door on the other side of the room.

Slowly, Athos woke, his eyes flickering open and shut a few times before they stayed open, immediately searching for Aramis. 'It's alright, you're alright...' Aramis reassured him as he watched Athos' eyes widen and his body tense up as he surveyed the situation.

'Stay calm- I'm tethered to this damn wall so I assume you are too...' He he added, watching as Athos sat up straighter and pulled at the metal ring behind him, the clinking noise echoing around the room. 'Are you alright?' Aramis asked, his eyes narrowed as he now got a better look at the marks around Athos' neck. He could see the marks were quite indented in his skin; obviously the man who had throttled him had a real good attempt at killing him before Athos fell unconscious. He swallowed back his anger as he watched Athos clench his fists behind him, obviously in pain.

Athos cleared his throat with a pained look on his face, before nodding slowly. 'I-I'll live...' he muttered, his voice deep and scratchy, before he tried to swallow; Aramis saw his throat work to try and swallow, before Athos squeezed his eyes shut in pain as he was finally able to.

Even in the fast-approaching darkness of night Aramis could see Athos' eyes were bloodshot as a result of the strangulation he had endured; he could hardly see any white in his eyes as Athos looked round to him, looking him up and down for injuries.

'And y-you?' he muttered, before wincing as he tried to unsuccessfully clear his throat again.

'Stop trying to clear your throat- your throat is swollen; you need to rest it,' Aramis told him, frustration filling him as he knew he could not go over to Athos and help him. 'Try not to talk too much either.'

He stopped talking as he realised Athos was giving him a strange look. 'I'm fine, don't worry about me,' he muttered, smiling as Athos sat back now he had got an answer to his question. Aramis sat back too, the two men looking around for a few seconds as they took in the cellar. 'I wonder who you've pissed off this time...' Aramis muttered, trying to make light of the situation and to try and quell his own rapidly-rising panic levels.

'No one...' Athos replied, his voice a deep growl. 'That I know of..'

'Stop talking!' Aramis berated him, to which Athos gave him another look. 'It'll never heal if you don't rest it!'

Both men looked up as they heard footsteps on the wooden floor above their heads- anticipation fizzed in Athos' body as they heard heavy footfalls on the stairs leading down to the cellar, before the heavy wooden door opened with a long, high-pitched creak, and two shadows filled the door.

'Evening gents.' A man said genially as he and another man walked the edges of the room, lighting the bracketed candles that ran the length of the room. Orange light flickered into life, throwing shadows across the room as the two men now walked down the room and came to a stop in front of the two Musketeers.

'Who are you?' Aramis growled as he looked up at them. 'What do you want from us?'

'You don't need to know our names.' One of the men muttered- he had a mop of dirty brown hair, and Aramis could smell manure and hay on his clothes; obviously a farmer, or perhaps a labourer.

The other man cleared his throat before speaking, and Aramis saw he was in much the same type of garb. 'We don't want anything from you.' he said, before the two men looked at each other and smile. 'Our employer asked that we...collect you...'

'Why?' Athos growled out, wincing.

'He'll be down after dinner,' the first man who spoke muttered, smiling again. 'He'll tell you himself.'

'Who is it?' Aramis asked, confused- he couldn't think of anyone that either they or Athos himself had annoyed this much.

'Oh I'm sure you'll recognise him when he comes down.' The second man assured them, before both men took off their jackets and placed them on a small stool by the opposite wall.

'He just asked that we get you gentlemen ready for him before he comes down.' He added as they began to roll up their sleeves.

'What does that mean?' Aramis growled, looking across to Athos in a slight panic that he tried not to show.

'Well, can't have the great Athos slumped by the wall like a sack of potatoes, can we?' the first man asked the second, who shook his head fervently.

'Surely not, not when he's such an important guest...' he replied, before both men grinned. 'That'll never do...'

'Touch him and you'll regret it!' Aramis warned, eyes flashing dangerously as both men walked across to Athos.

'How touching- he did say the Musketeers would defend each other like brothers, didn't he?' the first man muttered. The second man chuckled as he took Athos' shoulders and roughly pulled him forwards, allowing the first man to cut the thick rope tethering him to the wall with a small knife which he stowed back in his pocket.

'Up you come...' The man who held Athos muttered, hauling the swordsman to his feet- Athos teetered slightly on his feet as his head swam, but he soon got his senses back.

The man who held Athos chuckled as Athos threw a punch his way- he easily ducked it, before he pushed Athos away forcefully into the wall he had just untethered him from.

'Still feisty even after I nearly killed him!' he commented to the other man, who chuckled as he stepped into the shadows of the room and produced a wooden chair, putting it down on the stone floor in front of Aramis with a clunk.

'He says not to 'urt him before he gets down here...' he reminded the other man as Athos righted himself and turned back to the two of them, eyes wide with anger.

'Well, if he 'urts himself that's his problem, isn't it?' the first man shrugged. With a sigh the other man joined him as they advanced on Athos, who was more than willing to take on two of the bastards as the same time.

'Leave him alone!' Aramis shouted from his place on the floor; he growled in frustration as he shook the rope tethering him to the wall. 'Leave him!'

Athos decided to take on the smaller of the two men first- launching himself across to him he felt his swollen and sore throat erupt in pain at the exertion, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind as best he could as he landed a punch square on the man's nose, making him step back a few paces with a shout of pain, clutching his broken and bleeding face.

Turning swiftly to the other man he swung both fists into his temple; the man dropped to the floor, instantly unconscious.

'Athos look out!' he heard Aramis call from the floor, but it was too late. He grunted in pain as the first man slammed his forearm down onto the top of his back, causing him to drop to his knees as the breath was knocked out of him. Pain flourished in his sore throat as he was hauled to his feet again and turned round- he groaned as he felt a fist connect to his eye; feeling warm blood trickle down his face he staggered backwards, dazed.

'That's enough!' the man he had attacked first shouted, before bodily pushing him into the wooden chair. Holding a struggling Athos into the chair with one hand he plunged his free hand into an inner pocket and pulled out a pistol- he shook it in front of Athos' face. 'See this?' he growled, before aiming it at Aramis, clicking the safety off it at the same time.

'I will shoot him if you don't stop moving!' he promised; his deep voice echoing around the room was so loud Aramis almost winced.

Athos instantly tensed; he looked across to Aramis, feeling the blood continue to trickle slowly down his cheek from the cut above his eye. Aramis looked back, trying to convey that he was trying to think of a way to get them both out of here. All three men looked round as they heard a long, low moan of pain coming from the man that Athos had knocked unconscious.

The man staggered upwards, using the wall for support as he clutched the side of his head. His eyes flashed dangerous as he watched the other man finish tying Athos to the chair- with a growl of anger he walked forwards and slapped Athos round the face hard with the back of a calloused hand.

As Aramis cried out in anger and panic and Athos let out a grunt of pain, his head thrown to the side, the second man stepped forwards and pushed the angry man back, shaking his head.

'You know what he said!' he growled as he continued to restrain the man. 'We don't get our money if we hurt him! We've already lost money with that cut on his damn face!'

'I don't care!' the man shouted, trying to push his way forwards to Athos.

'Well I do! Let's just-' the two men stopped as they all heard heavy foot-falls coming down the stairs, before the door creaked open again, and a solitary shadow filled the room.

'Is everything ready?' A voice sounded into the sudden silence. Aramis frowned as the sound stopped reverberating round the room- he knew he knew that voice from somewhere, but he couldn't place it...

As he looked across to Athos he could see at once that his friend knew who the voice belonged to- his eyes widened in recognition before they flicked across to the medic. Before either man could communicate anything the man started speaking again as he walked into the room.

'I said- is everything ready?'

'We got him in the chair like you wanted, sir!' one of the man cried- both men now stood up straighter, almost like soldiers standing for attention in front of their commanding officer.

'Good- once it is over you will be paid handsomely.' The man said, his voice soft but direct and strong.

Through the dim orange light of the room Aramis still struggled to make out the features of the newcomer- seconds later his heart dropped into his stomach as a horribly familiar man stepped out of the shadows and into view as he slammed a hand down onto Athos' shoulder and squeezed hard.

'How nice you and your friend could join us tonight, Athos!' he smiled, eyes glinting as he continued to squeeze Athos' shoulder. The man looked across to Aramis, who surveyed him warily.

The last time they had all met had not been a pleasant one, and had ultimately culminated in the death of the son of the man who now stood in front of them, vengeance evident in his eyes.

'I did not expect to see you here,' he muttered to the medic, his eyes flicking across to the two other men who now stood to the side, who shifted nervously.

'But perhaps this is better,' Baron Renard considered, turning to Athos with narrowed eyes. 'Now you will both be able experience the terror and grief of watching someone you care for suffer and die, knowing you cannot do a thing about it...'

 **Thanks for reading! Next chapter up soon!**

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	4. Chapter 4

Athos felt his heart drop into his stomach as he digested the Baron's words- he swallowed as Renard stepped away from him, but not before once more clamping his hand onto his shoulder, his fingers digging in to the flesh.

'Oh how I have planned, how I have waited...' The Baron sighed mock-dramatically as he stepped over to a low wooden table that neither Musketeer had noticed before.

Aramis looked up, eyes wary as he surveyed the older man as he stood at the table. 'Our Captain knows we are missing by now.' he called over, voice echoing in the expanse between them. 'You are a Lord, a Comte...you cannot seriously think you will be able to get away with this?' he asked, voice low as he caught Athos' eyes again.

'I do not presume for you to understand me, or the situation, and nor do I rightly care.' The Baron replied, his tone icy and he turned back to the two men. 'You killed my boy- my only child and heir...did you think that was going to go unpunished?'

'We didn't kill him!' Aramis retorted, eyes narrowed as his mind flashed back to that day. 'If you hadn't of tried to interfere with the residents then none of it would have happened!'

Aramis immediately knew he had gone too far- the Baron's face seemed to contort as someone dared to place the blame for his son's demise on him.

He rushed forwards, as agile as a man twenty years younger, before slapping the medic in the face with the back of hand- Aramis grunted out in pain as he felt his skin split and blood dribble from his cheek.

Looking up as the Baron now grabbed his shirt with both hands to haul him half to his feet, Aramis could see a huge red signet ring on his middle finger; he assumed the Baron had a lot of practise hitting people and catching their faces with it to exact the maximum amount of pain and damage.

'Utter one more word and I will do worse than kill you!' he spat in Aramis' face, his cheeks flushed with anger. 'How dare you blame me for my son's death! 'he threw a hand out to point at Athos, who was trying to rid himself of the binds that tethered him to the chair so he could help his friend.

'If Athos had performed his rightly duty as Comte to his estate, or had handed it over to me, then the events would never have happened!' he shouted, before he stepped backwards, letting Aramis drop back down onto the wall with a thud.

'I will have vengeance for my son!' he added, eyes wide as if insanity itself was dancing behind them, before he looked to the two men helping him, who were stood by the wall watching.

'Did you get the equipment like I asked?' he asked, voice trembling slightly now.

'Yes- its all in the bag on the table.' One of the men nodded, motioning the table again.

'Good.' Renard nodded, before taking a deep breath and turning back- Athos strained against the bonds, which attracted the attention of the other man.

'Hey!' he shouted, producing a knife from his pocket before coming behind Athos and placing the knife at his throat. 'I'd stay still if I were you!'

Aramis growled low in his throat as he too started to try to rid himself of the binds to the wall; he couldn't just sit here and do nothing as this mad man and his two stooges did God-knows what to Athos.

The Baron paid no attention as he opened a large black leather bag that was sitting in the middle of the table. He opened the straps and upended the bag onto the table, the metallic and wooden sounds of implements hitting the wooden surface setting Athos' teeth on edge as he craned his neck slightly to watch the Baron slowly looking at each object in turn.

'Did you get the one I asked for?' he asked, voice once again reverberating in the room. He turned to the older looking man, who nodded with a horrible smile on his face.

'I had to crack a few heads to get access to the one you wanted. Not all places stock it- I had to travel twenty leagues to find it...'

'Then I trust it was worth it- hand it to me.' Renard demanded, hand out.

'Came in a case and everything...' the man added, walking over to another small table and collecting a large, dark leather pouch.

'Do you remember the first day that I found you had come back to Pinon, Athos?' The Baron asked as he walked to stand between Athos and Aramis as the pouch was placed in his hands.

'Before you were rescued and your friends saved your miserable hide, I had ordered a punishment befitting a man who had disregarded his duties, who had abandoned his people...' he stopped as he undid the pouch and let it drop to the floor, exposing the implement it had contained.

Aramis' breath caught in his throat as the Baron shook the whip to separate the knotted thongs that snaked down. 'I certainly did not forget.' The Baron added with a low laugh as he turned back to Athos, who had, even in the dim light of the cellar, gone pale.

'Get him ready.' The Baron's words echoed harshly.

'No wait!' Aramis shook his head as the two men grasped Athos' shoulder as the Baron turned away. 'Don't do this! You'll be hanged for this!' he cried, eyes wide as Athos' shirt was ripped away and thrown to the floor. He threw himself forwards to see if it would cause his bonds to break as he saw one of the men throw a rope up into the few low beams of the cellar- he continued to struggle to get free as Athos was cut free from the chair and dragged over to the rope, where his arms were tethered upwards, leaving his bare back free.

'Stop! Don't do this! Please!' Aramis shouted, bile rising to his throat as the Baron turned round, a smile on his face as Athos stood still, his back to the other three men.

'Take me instead! I was part of the group that killed your son! Take me!' he cried, cursing the binds as he tried to get free.

Renard stopped, as if considering his options- he suddenly flicked his wrist, sending the whip onto the floor with a resounding crack, making each man flinch.

'Get him ready too.' he finally grunted, tossing his head in Aramis' direction.

'Athos needs to realise the consequences of his actions- he also needs to realise that his actions do not merely have consequences just for himself...' he added, stepping backwards as Aramis was untethered from his wall and stripped to the waist, before being tied to a second rope next to Athos, who shook his head in frustration and craned his neck to spot the Baron.

'Your quarrel is with me and me alone!' he shouted, pulling downwards to see if he could now break these bonds. 'Let him go!'

'Enough talk!' The Baron cracked the whip once more- both Musketeers flinched away at the noise, before they heard the Baron walking behind them.

'You are soon going to feel how I have been feeling for the past few months- you will feel how it feels to see someone you care for suffer and die...' he muttered, words dripping with malice as he advanced on the two men, the whip tight in his hands.

 **Thanks for reading and sticking with this story- I'm sorry its been such a long time.**

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